


Surrender or Break

by Kael_Vercorian



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Knotting, M/M, is the plural for Galra also Galra or Galran, it can be like the word fish, one Galra two Galra, one fish two fish, self-lubricating cocks, the tags keep trying to tell me Galran but I like Galra better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8524444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kael_Vercorian/pseuds/Kael_Vercorian
Summary: This is a fill for the voltron kinkmeme, found here: https://voltron-kink.dreamwidth.org/1161.html?thread=263049The gist of the prompt was that Shiro's male captors use him for sex. When he fights back, they hurt him. If he cooperates, they don't go out of their way to hurt him. It is non-con.





	

Shiro stares down into empty eyes as he tries to catch his breath, the cheering of the crowd ringing through his ears. His back ached, bruises already blooming across pale skin from where he had been flung into a wall. This last opponent had been strong, though not the most difficult to defeat in the three weeks he had been prisoner on the Galra ship.

He steps away from the corpse as the Galra soldiers beckon him over, not resisting as one grabs his arm and leads him out of the arena. They take him to the shower room, allowing him fifteen minutes to clean off. He expects to be taken to his cell afterward, like usual, but they take an unfamiliar turn.

Unease churns through his gut. He didn’t like not knowing what was going, but he knew from experience that he would just be struck if he asked questions. They lead him to what appears to be someone’s personal room. There’s a bed to the right and two couches to the left, five Galra soldiers already in the room.

“Lieutenant-Commander Haxus. We’ve brought the gladiator as requested,” says the soldier behind him.

Shiro blinks at the name. He had never seen the man before, but he had heard that someone named Haxus was Sendak’s second-in-command. What had he done to get the attention of someone so high-ranking?

“So this is the new champion?” asks Haxus mockingly, eyeing him skeptically.

“He’s so small,” says the soldier next to Haxus.

 Shiro tries not to let his offense show on his face. He was a perfectly normal size. The Galra were just naturally taller and broader than humans.

“I don’t think he liked that, Thaul,” says the third soldier. “Small he may be, but at least he’s attractive for an inferior species.”

Thaul snorts. “You have odd taste, Cagun.”

“Hush,” orders Haxus. “Cydan. Thelas. Strap him to the bed.”

Shiro freezes in horror as the two bulkiest Galra stand from the couch and approach. The soldiers who escorted him to the room take up a guard position by the door, blocking his escape route. He snaps out of his shock when hands reach for him, fighting back as they try to drag him over to the bed.

For his defiance, one of them pulls out a weapon and shocks him. The current makes his muscles seize before going limp. They have his shirt off and his arms manacled to the headboard before he has a chance to recover. His legs are left untied, despite the way he kicks at them as they remove his pants.

“He is rather feisty, isn’t he?” asks Cydan.

“Yes. A little too feisty,” says Haxus, approaching the bed. “We won’t be able to knot with him. As such, I’ll be going first.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shiro scowls as they crowd around him, eyes flickering between them warily. He had a sinking suspicious he knew what ‘knotting’ meant. You learned a lot of weird information searching the web aimlessly. His muscles tense as Haxus gets on the bed, kicking out as soon as he was within reach. Unfortunately, Haxus grabs his ankle before his foot can connect, squeezing hard enough to make him wince in pain.

“Settle down, whelp. This will hurt less if you don’t struggle,” says Haxus.

Shiro shakes his head, teeth gritted together to keep from speaking. The words ‘don’t do this’ hover beneath his tongue, but he refuses to give them the satisfaction of begging. He knew it wouldn’t change anything either way. The least he could keep was his pride.

Haxus sighs but doesn’t look that disappointed. “Very well. We tried to be merciful.”

Shiro flushes as his boxers are ripped off, fabric tearing easily beneath Haxus’s claws. Embarrassment and a sense of helpless shame has him averting his eyes, unable to stand the way they look at him as they though they have any right.

His thighs are gripped with bruising force and spread harshly, no gentleness in the way Haxus settles between his legs. He tries not to tense as an alien cock slides between his cheeks, slick with some kind of natural lubricant, but the knowledge of what’s to come doesn’t let him relax.

His nerves flare with pain as Haxus pushes in, not stopping until he’s sheathed to the hilt. Nothing felt torn, thankfully, but the pain wasn’t subsiding either. It just got worse as Haxus began to move, tearing a pained groan from his lips.

Haxus keeps a firm grip on his legs as he fucks into him with brutal movements, not giving him a chance to kick him off. It was infuriating being used like some toy, but there wasn’t anything he could do in this position. He would endure what they did to him, but he wouldn’t be broken. There would come a day where he escaped from them. He had to believe that to stay sane.

“He’s rather quiet, isn’t he? Kind of disappointing,” comments Thelas.

Shiro shoots him a disbelieving glare. What was he expecting, for him to put on some kind of show? Pretend it felt good? Or did he think this was enough to make him scream? It was a different kind of pain, certainly, and more humiliating, but it wasn’t the worst agony he had ever been in.

Injury wise, the arena was worse than this. He got flung into walls, had his hand stepped on, his arm broken from the sheer force of his sword meeting another’s, and his ankle broken from the crazy maneuvers needed to evade his enemy’s attack. This was more psychologically damaging than physically.

“At least he’s not cursing us out or whining like a babe. Ruins the mood,” says Cagun.

“I like it when they beg,” says Cydan.

“You mean for more or for you to stop?” asks Thaul.

“Either,” replies Cydan, grinning maliciously.

“Quiet,” snaps Haxus. “ _You’re_ the ones ruining the mood.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Shiro tunes them out and stares at the ceiling, waiting. He can feel Haxus’s grip weaken as he nears the edge, preparing himself as the other stops moving with a quiet groan. However, when the time comes, it’s as much reflex as it planned that his foot lashes out with a startled yelp, unprepared for how _hot_ the alien’s cum would be.

Cydan catches his foot before it can connect with Haxus’s face. “You’re not the first to think they can fight us off during orgasm. It won’t work.”

“He’s not the first to look so shocked, either. Is our cum really that different?” asks Thelas.

Shiro frowns as he realizes they actually expect an answer. “It’s….unusually warm.”

“Painful?” asks Haxus indifferently, pulling out in one smooth movement.

Shiro winces at the flare of discomfort, shaking his head. It wasn’t hot enough to burn, but it certainly wasn’t comfortable, especially when his insides already felt inflamed from the rough friction. He flushes in mortification when he feels it trickling out of him. Cydan was still holding his leg up, leaving him fully exposed.

“Mm. Purple is a good look on you,” says Cydan appreciatively.

Puzzled by that comment, Shiro looks down. He’s at the wrong angle to see his entrance, but he does catch sight of Haxus’s cock. Long with a normal girth and the only hairless part of the alien; there was also traces of a purple liquid, darker than the color of his fur. Alien biology was weird.

“Which one of us gets to go next?” asks Thaul.

“Since you asked first, you can,” says Haxus. “Thelas, hold his other foot up. I don’t want any more kicking attempts.”

Shiro’s eyes narrow as Thelas reaches for him, snapping his foot out. It connects with Thelas’s wrist, causing the other to withdraw his hand with a muttered curse. His victory is short lived as Thelas simply moves faster next time, his ankle aching from the pressure of Thelas’s tight grip.

Anger wars with humiliation as his legs are forced high in the air. Thaul steps out of his trousers and joins him on the bed, his cock steadily leaking precum, the color of lavender. It would be amusing if this situation were different.

His wrists strain against their restraints as he tries to get away, flinching when Thaul’s hands settle on his chest and claws pierce into his skin. The scratches weren’t deep, but they drew thin trails of blood down his chest.

Thaul grins at the sight and jerks his hips forward, purring at the tight clench around his cock. He was more vocal than Haxus, shamelessly moaning as he thrust his cock deep into Shiro’s body. His cock wasn’t as smooth as Haxus’s, probably because his skin was covered in scales instead of fur.

A distant part of Shiro’s brain notes that it probably would have hurt worse if Thaul had been the one to start things off instead of Haxus, when he was still dry inside. Now that he was slicked up from Haxus’s cum, it had turned into a dull ache with the occasional flare of pain when Thaul went too deep.

Anger was an exhausting emotion to hang on to, reflected Shiro. It also wouldn’t help him in this situation. He lets the emotion go, trying to clear his mind. A meditative state wasn’t quite possible like this, but he manages to calm down by the time Thaul was done. Having a clear head would help him look for openings to attack.

“You’re next, Cagun,” says Haxus.

Shiro tilts his head to stare at the lone blue Galra in the room with venomous eyes. Cagun hesitates so briefly it’s almost imperceptible, but Shiro _does_ notice, a small victory in a sea of loss. He doesn’t let himself smirk, knowing that would just encourage them to make this experience worse.

Cagun settles between his thighs, hand reaching for his throat. Shiro’s eyes widen as his airway is constricted, renewing his struggles to escape. Cagun grins and thrusts into him, seeming to get a thrill at how he gasps for breath, staring at his open mouth.

Damn it.

It seemed no matter what he did, they weren’t satisfied.

“Bastard,” he gasps out with what little breath he has left, dark spots dancing at the edge of his vision. Just before he can pass out, Cagun’s grip eases, allowing him to suck in desperate breaths.

“Insolent whelp,” retorts Cagun, backhanding him.

Pain flares across his face, the taste of blood filling his mouth. He’s so _very_ tempted to spit in Cagun’s face, but he’s watched enough movies to know how that turns out. It’s always possible for them to hurt you more.

 _‘I won’t break_ ,’ he thinks desperately, repeating it like a prayer. _‘I won’t break. I won’t break. I won’t break.’_

He can feel the bruises forming on his neck as Cagun chokes him again. Fear rises up every time his vision blurs, wondering if this will be the time Cagun is too distracted seeking pleasure between his thighs to notice he’s losing consciousness. He didn’t want to die, especially not like this, being used as some alien’s fleshlight.

Shiro flinches as Cagun suddenly cums with a loud groan. He didn’t think he would ever get used to how hot it was.

“You really do like ‘em quiet, huh Cagun?” asks Thelas, eyeing the bruises marring Shiro’s neck with amusement.

Cagun shrugs. “Like I said. Useless noise ruins the mood. You want me to hold his leg for your turn?”

“Nah. I’ve got something different in mind.”

Shiro pales when Thelas strips, realizing just how _big_ he was. His cock was twice as wide as the others’! At least he wasn’t as long?

Trying to look on the bright side didn’t work.

Thelas grabs his legs and hooks them over his shoulders, lifting his ass up off the bed. He tries to take deep breaths and relax as Thelas lines his cock up, but his breath gets lost on a hoarse scream when he shoves in.

Tears well up at the corner of his eyes. It hurt. Everything hurt. His wrists, his back, his throat, his ankles, and his ass. This was worse than anything the arena could throw at him.

“Hah,” grunts Thelas. “You’re so tight, even after the others have used you.”

An involuntary whimper escapes him as Thelas begins to move, trying and failing to hold back any more pained noises.

“That’s it. Scream for me, human,” growls Thelas.

And Shiro does. He can’t help it. Pained cries leave his lips with every brutal thrust of Thelas’s hips. There was no way to relax or move away from the source of the pain. Broad hands are locked tight on his waist, keeping him from squirming away.

Thelas leans forward, nearly bending him in half, and bites into his shoulder. Blood trickles down to stain the sheets as Thelas’s hips grind forward. His muscles strain at the new position, but it isn’t long before Thelas is cumming and letting him flop back down onto the mattress.

 _‘Just one more,’_ he thinks as Cydan trades places with Thelas. _‘You can get through this. Just one more and it’s over.’_

Cydan grabs underneath his knees and pushes his legs far apart, causing his thighs to ache as he’s essentially forced to do a split. Shiro tries to close his legs a little to ease some of the strain, but Cydan keeps them firmly pinned in place. He can only hope that Cydan finishes quickly.

He doesn’t.

It feels like an eternity where all he can do is lie there and endure the agony. Cydan was just as wide as Thelas, but with the rough texture of Thaul’s cock. It was going to take days for him to heal after this. He didn’t know how he was going to survive the arena. The Galra didn’t seem merciful enough to give him time to heal.

He shudders in relief when it’s finally over, hoping he’ll be allowed a shower. Dark purple cum dripped out of him, sticking to his inner thighs. It felt disgusting.

Shiro tenses when Haxus approaches the bed, contemplating the merits of punching him when his hands were free. Except that Haxus made no move to free him, instead kneeling between his thighs….like he was going….no….Confusion turns to horror as Haxus’s erect cock prods at his hole.

Haxus smirks at his expression. “You didn’t think one round would be enough to satisfy us, did you?”

Shiro cries out as Haxus enters him, eyes screwed shut in pain. _‘I won’t break…I won’t break…I won’t…Not again. Please no, not again.’_

“Stop,” whispers Shiro brokenly. “Please stop.”

Haxus chuckles, shifting forward to speak against Shiro’s ear. “This is a good look on you, Champion. Defeat. Stronger men than you have broken beneath the might of the Galra Empire. The more you struggle, the worse it will be for you. Remember that.”

Shiro trembles in a mixture of fear and pain, tears leaking from his eyes as he’s pushed to the point of breaking. He loses track of time as they take him again and again, his mind a haze of pain and despair. By the time they’re done, he’s incoherent and unable to walk, having to be carried by one of the guards back to his cell.

They take him to the shower room first, hosing him down with cold water then dumping him, still dripping wet, onto his thin mattress. Distantly, he notes one of them open a jar of cream before fingers prod inside him, smearing a cooling salve inside him. It makes the pain gradually lessen.

He’s grateful to fall unconscious then, giving into the blank nothingness of sleep. Three days pass after that where he’s left alone, the guards passing him a tray of food under the flap in the door. The salve works wonderfully, healing him up before his next gladiator match.

Despite Haxus’s words, he doesn’t give in to them right away. He still has his pride, for however little that’s worth. It takes weeks before he can’t handle it anymore. They visit him nearly every day, pushing him down onto the floor of his cell, some not even bothering to let him lie on the mattress. It hurts every time, but at least he’s given salve afterwards. He wouldn’t be worth anything to them if he couldn’t fight in the arena. A few of them mutter about the cost of the salve and how he wouldn’t even need it if he didn’t fight back.

It isn’t until after a particularly exhausting battle that he can’t muster up the energy to fight back. He had been looking forward to a soothing shower, the one comfort the Galra allowed him, but instead he’s shoved against the tiled wall as his clothes are clawed off.

He stares at the floor and just….doesn’t resist.

The soldier is suspicious at first but softens his touch when he doesn’t lash out. It’s still uncomfortable, but the soldier gives him time to adjust before moving. There’s a moment where it almost starts to feel good, to his tired mortification, but it’s over before his body can react.

He’s allowed to take his shower when the soldier is done. There’s a clock on the far wall, but when he starts to turn the water off after fifteen minutes, he’s given the signal to continue. He gets twenty minutes of blissfully hot water on his sore muscles. A reward, he supposes, for finally cooperating.

After giving in once, he doesn’t have the will-power to struggle again. He was tired of the pain, though he wasn’t sure if the forced pleasure was really any better. It was just a different kind of humiliation.

It was worse when he wasn’t too tired to get aroused. He couldn’t decide at first if he should just ignore the erection and wait for it to go away but realized that getting aroused and then denying himself was making his skin more sensitive. It would be an endless cycle of frustration if he didn’t take himself in hand after the Galra soldiers left him alone.

That becomes the new routine for the next month until one day, he comes back from his gladiator match to find a new mattress in his cell. It was soft and thick and caused a deep feeling of suspicion. What were the Galra planning now? He knew they didn’t care about his comfort.

“Do you like it? Your old one was getting rather flat.”

Shiro stares at the soldier who entered the room warily. He thinks he recognizes this one. Hadn’t one of the other Galra called him ‘Kolr’ or something?

“It’s…nice,” says Shiro after a moment.

“Good. It ought to make the sex more comfortable, yeah?” says Kolr, grinning.

Shiro sighs.

Kolr ignores his lack of enthusiasm and starts undressing. After a reluctant pause, Shiro follows suit. He sits down on the mattress and goes to lay on his back, but Kolr shakes his head.

“No, turn over. It’ll be easier that way.”

Puzzled, he gets up on his hands and knees. He wanted to ask what would be easier but thought better of it. Despite how nice some of his captors acted, they could get vicious if they thought you were forgetting your place.

Shiro breathes in deeply as Kolr rubs his cock between the cleft of his ass, but he doesn’t push in yet. Instead, fingers prod at his entrance, collecting the slick left behind and sliding inside.

It was unusual. They didn’t usually take the time to prepare him. It felt…odd. Two thick fingers wriggling around inside him. The discomfort didn’t last long, his muscles already accustomed to taking something much bigger. He flinches when that sensitive spot inside him is touched, a spark of unwanted pleasure trailing up his spine.

Kolr notices. “Does that feel good, Champion?”

Shiro grimaces, hating the way they used that title as if it were his name. He would even prefer being called human to that.

Kolr huffs irritably at his lack of answer and curls his fingers, deliberately stroking against his prostate. Shiro trembles at the sensation, heat pooling low in his abdomen. He stays quiet, unwilling to give Kolr the satisfaction of knowing he was affecting him.

“Well, I guess if you’re not having fun, I’ll just have to move things along,” says Kolr. “You seem loose enough now anyway.”

It was easier not to tense up now that he wasn’t expecting pain, so there’s little resistance as Kolr slides his cock inside him all the way to the hilt. The hands at his hips are even gentle, not aiming to cause new bruises. Of course, Kolr doesn’t stay gentle for long. It wasn’t how the Galra preferred to fuck their prisoners.

Shiro braces his hands against the floor as Kolr begins to move, deep thrusts that got rougher the closer Kolr came to cumming. His cock slaps against his stomach, precum leaving a sticky smear on his skin. But it was nothing compared to how much precum Kolr was producing. He could hear slick sounds as the Galra rutted into him, so loud it sent an embarrassed blush across his face.

He grits his teeth, biting back a moan as Kolr’s cock nails his prostate. The angle was inconsistent as the Galra thrust into him, making the pulses of pleasure unpredictable. It took more effort than he liked to admit not to tilt his hips up and make the pleasure constant.

It’s disturbing to not know whether he’s disappointed or relieved to feel Kolr’s thrusts slow down. What kind of messed up psychology was it that he was starting to enjoy what they were doing to him?

The familiar heat floods inside him as Kolr lets out a deep groan, but instead of pulling out like normal, he shoves forward. There’s pressure against the rim of his hole and the base of Kolr’s cock seems to swell. His nose crinkles in confusion, instinctively trying to move away from the foreign sensation, but Kolr’s grip tightens on his hips.

“Just relax, Champion. You’re not going anywhere for a while. We’re knotted now,” says Kolr.

Knotted. So he hadn’t been mistaken about that meant, after all.

An arm snakes around his stomach, pulling him with Kolr as he shifts positions, lying them on their side. It’s difficult to stay still, his erection still throbbing between his thighs. The warmth from Kolr’s cum wasn’t dissipating as fast as normal with him still inside to trap the heat. It actually felt quite pleasant when he wasn’t hurting inside.

Shiro lasts a minute before he gives in to the inevitable, reaching down between his legs. However, Kolr notices the movement and beats him to it, taking hold of his erection to jack him off. Shiro’s breath hitches at the feeling of soft fur against his cock, squirming as heat licks up his spine.

He grips Kolr’s wrist as he rocks his hips into that tight grip, the rim of his hole catching on Kolr’s knot as he moves. A desperate groan escapes him as the pleasure sparks higher, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head as he cums.

“It’s white,” says Kolr, sounding surprised. “How odd.”

Still trying to catch his breath, Shiro can feel his lips twitch up into a wry smile. He found them to be just as strange.

“So, uh, how long does this last?” he asks.

“Twenty to thirty minutes, usually,” says Kolr. “Feels good, doesn’t it? My knot filling you up, keeping my seed inside you. It’s a pity the males of your species can’t be bred. You’d have strong pups that would be a good addition to the Galra Empire.”

The thought was horrifying. It was a good thing he wasn’t facing Kolr right now; he was sure the Galra would take offense to the expression he was making.

And did he hear that right? They were going to be stuck like this for half an hour? What on Earth did the Galra do during that time?

…..Cuddle, apparently.

He can feel his disbelief growing as Kolr just drapes his arm over him and lies there. After a few minutes, he starts to hear a faint noise like a.…..purr?

Surrealness aside, it was kind of pleasant to be held like this. The mattress below him was soft and Kolr’s higher body temperature was keeping him warm. From a psychology standpoint, it was natural that he would find this comforting. Humans needed positive touch, and all he had been receiving the past couple of months was pain and rough indifference.

He knew Kolr wasn’t holding him out of any sort of affection, but for just a moment, he could pretend. One of the worst things about his captivity was how lonely he was. He was kept isolated from the other prisoners after his stunt to protect Matt, and he hadn’t seen either of the Holts since then. There was no one to seek comfort from except the ones causing his misery in the first place.

By the time Kolr’s knot goes down, he’s almost slipped into a light doze, lulled into a relaxed state by the sound of Kolr breathing. He blinks drowsily as Kolr pulls out, rolling onto his stomach when a hand pushes on his shoulder.

“Look at you,” says Kolr approvingly. “All fucked out and dripping. It’s a pity we can’t keep you this way all the time, but Commander Sendak thinks you’re more valuable in the arena. You draw in quite the crowd of bloodthirsty, paying customers.”

Shiro startles at the feel of a towel against his entrance.

“Just gotta get you cleaned up. Don’t want you making a mess of your new mattress already,” says Kolr. He wipes him off and throws the towel in the corner of the room. “Till next time, Champion.”

Shiro watches him go then lays his head back down. Still feeling relaxed, he slips off into sleep. When he wakes up later, he’ll realize that was the first nightmare free night he’s had in weeks.

It becomes almost like an addiction after that. Every time one of his Galra captors decides to make use of him, he hopes for the feel of a knot at the end, knowing it’ll mean thirty minutes of being held. Only about half of them give him what he wants.

He didn’t think he was being very obvious in his enjoyment, but apparently, he wasn’t as subtle as he hoped.

“What?” he asks in shock.

Shiro stares at Rotak from his mattress, wondering if he heard that right. And was it weird that he was starting to learn the names of his frequent visitors? He didn’t go out of his way to learn them, but there wasn’t much to do in his cell except listen in on their conversations. It probably wasn’t good for his mental health that he was starting to think of them as people with individual personalities.

He wanted to hate them for what they had done, and he certainly did hate the ones who had been cruel to him in the beginning, but they weren’t the same ones who visited him now. The gentle ones, those he had started to view as humans with fur. It wasn’t good. He shouldn’t seek comfort from the enemy. Just because they were nicer to him than the others didn’t mean they were actually _nice._

Rotak repeats himself patiently, “I said: ‘if you suck me off and ride me, then I’ll knot you.’ You like that, don’t you? Humans must be social creatures like Galra. I know biologists will say it’s just for higher chances of pregnancy, but plenty of other species don’t have knots and they’re not in any danger of extinction. The knot is to make sure we get our touch needs met.”

Shiro grimaces, not liking the comparison. Should he go along with Rotak’s offer? Would the comfort at the end really be worth the humiliation of his active cooperation?

And for that matter, would Rotak even fit in his mouth? This Galra was one of the bulky ones, broad shoulders and thick biceps. From his experience, that always meant they had thick cocks too. On the other hand, Rotak might get angry if he outright refused and force him. He would just have to do his best and hope Rotak appreciated the attempt.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly.

Rotak grins and kicks off his boots, lifting his shirt up over his head. The pants come off next, and he leaves everything in a messy pile by the door as he strides over to Shiro. His cock juts out, already hard and leaking.

Shiro gets up onto his knees, hesitantly placing his hands on Rotak’s thighs as the man stands before him. Deciding to start off simple, he gives a short lick to the head of his cock, surprised by the taste. It was almost sweet.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be entirely horrible.

Rotak purrs approvingly as he gives him another lick, resting a hand on top of his head. Shiro wraps his fingers around the base, noting how big he looked in his hand. He must have been at least four or five inches wide at the base, tapering down to two inches at the tip.

He takes what he can into his mouth, being careful not to scrape him with his teeth as he sucks. Rotak groans deeply, eyes locked onto Shiro’s lips around his cock. That sweet taste lingers on his tongue as he bobs his head.

With his free hand, he works on getting his pants down to his knees. His cock was already starting to harden, subconscious now associating the sight of a Galra cock with pleasure instead of pain. He switches which hand he’s using to stroke Rotak, using the slick from his cock to begin preparing himself.

Rotak’s fingers clench in his hair, hips twitching as he obviously struggles not to thrust forward. Worried that he might lose control if he doesn’t move things along, Shiro takes a deep breath and tries to take more of him into his mouth. His jaw aches at the stretch but he keeps going until Rotak’s cock hits the back of his throat.

There was approval in Rotak’s eyes when he glanced up, sending a flush of heat through him. This…this shouldn’t be turning him on….right?

He didn’t know how to feel about the way his body was reacting. They hadn’t discussed anything like this in his college psychology class. Perhaps it was the illusion of consent allowing him to enjoy this. He’d had a few sexual encounters back on Earth and giving fellatio hadn’t been unpleasant. He liked giving pleasure.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Rotak groans softly and more sweet-tasting slick drips into his mouth. It made his fingers sticky as he stroked the base of his cock, but it made a decent lube. He slips another finger inside himself and stretches them out, working on loosening himself up.

“You have a talented mouth, human,” purrs Rotak. “Though it’s a shame you can’t fit all of me.”

Shiro shivers faintly at the praise, letting out a quiet noise of pleasure. Rotak brushes his thumb over Shiro’s cheek, feeling his cock stretching Shiro’s mouth open. Leaning forward, Rotak watches Shiro finger himself and grins.

“Your tiny fingers aren’t going to be enough to prepare you for me,” says Rotak in amusement. “I’ll have to do it myself. Pull back now.”

Shiro pulls his fingers out and sits back, unconsciously licking his lips to get more of that sweet flavor. Rotak grabs his wrist when he goes to lick his fingers as well, giving him a bemused look as he collects the slick to use as lube.

“Human taste buds must be unique. I’ve yet to encounter another species who finds our fluids as pleasing as you do,” says Rotak.

Shiro blushes in embarrassment and averts his eyes. It wasn’t his fault they mostly fed him bland food. He hadn’t had anything sweet in months.

Rotak chuckles. “It’s not a bad thing. I’m sure some of the others will enjoy indulging you. Perhaps those with a smaller girth?”

Shiro shrugs. It wasn’t like he had a choice either way.

He undresses while Rotak sits down on the mattress against the wall, then straddles his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Fingers press against his entrance, claws thankfully sheathed as they push inside. His nerves light up with pleasure as they slide in deep, exhaling on a moan as they find his prostate.

Rotak scrutinizes his reaction, rubbing his fingers against that spot again and again until he’s shaking. Shiro bites his lip when a whine slips out, grabbing onto Rotak’s shoulders for support as his hips rock down. His fingernails dig into Rotak’s skin when he takes his fingers out, hating that he hated that empty feeling.

“Patience, human,” says Rotak, grabbing hold of his waist. “Lower yourself down now, slowly. I want you to enjoy the feeling of me filling you up.”

The first inch slips in easily, making him moan as sensitive nerves are stimulated. The next inch is harder, stretching him out more than Rotak’s fingers did. It’s not easy to relax his muscles in this position while keeping himself from sinking all the way down.

Rotak notices his dilemma and hums thoughtfully. He runs one hand up Shiro’s back and the other up his stomach. Shiro sucks in a startled breath when Rotak’s finger brushes across his nipple, unprepared for the sudden rush of pleasure. None of the other Galra had ever bothered with foreplay, and he had forgotten how sensitive his nipples could be when someone else was touching him.

It was like a livewire going directly from his nipples to his dick. With Rotak rubbing slow circles over his nipples, he’s able to take all but the last inch inside him. It hurts pushing down the rest of the way, and he’s starting to feel a bit of apprehension at the idea of being knotted. He was already so big; how was he supposed to handle more than that?

Shiro takes a moment to just breathe, letting his muscles untense. When the pain fades to a dull ache, he lifts his hips slowly, closing his eyes with a deep groan. He could feel every inch of Rotak inside him as he moved, continuously brushing across his prostate. With pleasure sparking along his nerves with every movement, he didn’t need any encouragement to keep moving.

“Mmm. You feel so good around me, human,” says Rotak, moaning appreciatively. “Hot and wet, gripping me so perfectly.”

Wrapping his arms around Rotak’s shoulders, he tucks his face into the side of his neck almost shyly. There was no denying the way his cock twitched at the other’s praise, making the blush along his cheeks deepen.  He rocks his hips down, exhaling shakily as Rotak’s fingers continue to caress his chest, pinching and rubbing at his nipples.

They were close enough that his cockhead rubbed against Rotak’s stomach, leaving a smear of precum in purple fur. The friction left him moaning, pleasure rising higher with every moment. A discontented noise leaves his throat when Rotak’s hands move from his chest to his waist. It quickly changes to a startled cry as Rotak uses the grip to pull him down even as the Galra thrusts his hips up.

“ _Again,”_ he gasps out without thinking.

Rotak grins at his reaction and digs his feet into the floor, using the extra leverage to put some force into his thrusts. Shiro grasps at Rotak’s fur, thoughts fracturing at the pleasure becomes too much. He doesn’t even have enough breath to moan as his muscles clench down repeatedly, trying to milk Rotak’s cock even as his own squirts between them.

His body hangs limp in Rotak’s hold as the Galra continues to grind his hips up. He can feel his knot swelling, pulling at his rim with every movement. Finally, Rotak pulls his hips down flush with his, holding him there as hot cum floods his insides and the knot grows to its full size.

Shiro shudders, trying not to tense up. The extra stretch was just as painful as it was pleasurable. Still, it was worth it to feel Rotak’s arms wrapping around him, holding him in his lap. Like this, he could let the sound of the other man breathing relax him as his thoughts aimlessly wandered, not thinking about anything in particular.

Surprisingly, Rotak seems to understand that he wants silence and doesn’t bother him with conversation. Or perhaps the Galra just wasn’t very chatty after sex. Either way, he was left in peace.

Unfortunately, it couldn’t last. As Rotak’s knot unswells, the Galra reaches for the towel lying on the corner of the mattress and brings it closer. When they’re able to separate, Rotak lifts him up and sets him down on the towel, casually pushing his legs apart to watch his cum drip out of Shiro’s stretched out hole.

“That is a beautiful sight. It’s a pity I can’t claim you as my personal slave, but you really are one of our most popular Gladiators at the moment. Someday, you may even be giving the option to join us,” says Rotak.

Shiro’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What do you mean by join us?”

“To become part of the Galra Empire, obviously. Of course, non-Galra will never have as high of a position but they have more rights than a slave and servant. That would probably be your first promotion, to servant. You would get a small paycheck and be given to a Master to oversee you. It would be his responsibility to keep you line and teach you about the ways of the Galra,” says Rotak.

Shiro’s thoughts race as he considers his possibilities. He didn’t particularly want to work for the Galra, but it would probably increase his chances of escape. If he ever wanted to see home again, then he needed to earn their trust.

“How are people chosen for that?” he asks.

Rotak grins at his show of interest. “Mostly by being useful to the Empire. Some do that by strength, others by intelligence. The most important thing, though, is obedience. Now that you’ve stopped fighting us, you’re more likely to be chosen.”

“And which person would I end up with as a…..Master?” asks Shiro, hesitating over the word.

“Hmm. That depends on who’s interested in the job. Generally, the one with the highest rank who expresses interest in you will get the privilege,” answers Rotak. “You will need to work on your reluctance to call them Master. Disrespect like that would get you punished.”

Shiro nods. “I’ll work on it. But, what did you mean when you called it a privilege?”

Rotak looks surprised. “Well, you didn’t think they got nothing out of it, did you? When you become a servant, your accomplishments will reflect well on your Master, just as any misbehavior will reflect poorly on him. And when you’re promoted up, it looks good on his record that he trained someone to be a member of the Galra Empire.”

While Shiro mulls over his words, Rotak gets dressed then heads for the door.

“Sleep well, human. We’ll see more of each other in the future.”

With that parting shot, Rotak leaves him to his solitude. He stares at the ceiling for a while, then sits up a sigh. He uses the towel to get cleaned up then sets it by the door. The guards would take it while he was sleeping and replace it with a fresh one.

After getting dressed, he lies down on the mattress and tries to think of a plan. He didn’t know how he was going to impress the Galra enough to get “promoted”. There wasn’t much he could do differently in his position, except change his attitude. Perhaps he should try to be less obvious in his reluctance to serve them.

As to the arena matches, he wasn’t willing to do anything differently. He only killed when ordered to because he knew refusal would just mean both of their deaths, and he needed to survive long enough to get to Earth and warn them. The Galra seemed to value bloodthirstiness but for the sake of his sanity, he wasn’t going to pretend he shared that interest.

Shiro sighs again and decides to leave off planning for another day. He was tired now, and there wasn’t anything more he could do unless one of the upper-ranked Galra took interest in him. Rolling to the face the wall, he closes his eyes and tries to sleep.


End file.
